


Say My Name

by defyinggravitee



Series: A Kinky Syzygy [4]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bondage, Cock Ring, Crying, F/F, F/M, Hair-pulling, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyinggravitee/pseuds/defyinggravitee
Summary: In which Isabel Lovelace makes good on a promise and spanks Doug Eiffel until he cries.Minkowski has a few surprises for him, too.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Wolf 359 fandom. I have no idea if really dark BDSM threesome porn was on your Christmas list, but it’s what I got you. 
> 
> This takes place in an AU happy ending, where Eiffel, Lovelace, and Minkowski all live together in a nice smart house (run by Hera) on the beach. I want my babies to be happy and if I have to DO IT MYSELF, then SO BE IT!

Doug’s naked and bent over the bed, his feet hip width apart and wrists bound by rope in front of him, body weight resting on his forearms. He’d expected to be gagged—he almost always is during their scenes—but Lovelace was having none of it.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” she’d said when he’d asked about it. “I want to hear you scream. And you will be screaming.”

Doug isn’t to speak, not unless he’s asked a direct question by either Lovelace or Minkowski, but he’s extremely vocal in bed even when he isn’t talking. Evidently Lovelace wants to hear all his noises at full volume.

Doug isn’t sure exactly what noises she’s going to draw from him, but he can’t wait to find out.

Once Lovelace has Eiffel how she wants him (adding the finishing touch of a cock ring to keep him from finishing too early and "spoiling our fun”), she runs her palms over Doug’s ass, exposed and vulnerable in his current position. Minkowski watches from an armchair in the corner of the bedroom—Eiffel suspects she won’t be there for long, but then, he doesn’t know the details of the scene, only that Lovelace wanted his ass clean for it. And those are not orders Doug is inclined to question.

“Such a tight, pretty little ass you have, Eiffel,” Lovelace whispers into his ear, her breath brushing his skin. “I’m so going to enjoy wrecking it."

And she brings her hand down on his ass, once, sharply. Doug yelps.

“Mmm, there are those pretty sounds I was hoping for,” Lovelace says. “Would you like to hear that again, Renée?”

“I certainly would,” the other woman says from where she lounges on the chair, one leg draped over its arm and lace draped over her body. Doug’s practically salivating just looking at her, black nightgown teasingly exposing the tops of her breasts, the curves of her sides. But he doesn’t have much time to enjoy the view because Lovelace brings her hand down on his other cheek, just as sharp and stinging as the first. Doug gasps, then moans.

“I could listen to this all day,” Lovelace says, voice low and languid as she hits him twice more, her tone as casual as though she and Minkowski were discussing the weather.

“You and me both, Isabel. You and me both.”

Doug continues to whimper and moan and make desperate, breathy noises as Lovelace brings her hand down again and again, unrelenting, spanking him senseless. Every time he thinks he’s getting used to the pain, Lovelace increases the weight of her strokes, or the speed, until Doug is practically _wailing_ , the skin of his ass burning, his cock rock hard against the bedsheets, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“I think you’re going to make him cry,” Minkowski says casually, although Doug can see how wet she is through the thin fabric of her black lace underwear.

“Bet I could,” Lovelace says, smacking his ass again. Doug makes a deep, guttural sound, something like a grunt but a little more elegant. “What do you think, Doug? Should I make you cry?” She squeezes his ass gently, and even this small gesture sends pain shooting through his poor tortured nerves.

Doug gasps and swallows. “Yes, sir, please, sir.”

“All right, sweetheart. Let’s find out exactly how much you can take.” Lovelace hits him again, and Doug cries out.

“Again,” Minkowski says, and Lovelace hits him so hard Doug practically sees stars. When she does it again, he actually screams, the sound escaping his throat without any input from him.

“Getting close,” Minkowski says.

Lovelace hits him four more times in rapid succession, and Doug’s tears spill over, the pain in his ass excruciating, the ache in his cock making it even worse.

“That enough, Doug?” Lovelace says softly, her voice tender, more herself than her dominant character.

“More,” he chokes out through tears. “Just a little more, I can do it, I—ah!”

She spanks him again, aim less precise with Doug’s body shaking, and he makes eye contact with Minkowski, who’s staring at him in breathless awe, fingers under the hemline of her panties as Lovelace spanks a sobbing Eiffel into the mattress.

Just when Doug starts to think he can’t take anymore, Lovelace stops abruptly.

“Renée, dear?”

“Yes, Isabel?”

“Would you prep him for me? I left my strap-on in the other room, silly me.”

Doug has to bite down on his tongue to keep from speaking, but a deep, guttural moan reverberates in his chest.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Lovelace says, running her fingers softly through his hair in marked contrast to her previous touch. “We’re not done with your pretty ass yet. The fun is just getting started.”

Lovelace exits the room, stilettos clicking on the floor beneath her. Then it’s Minkowski who’s standing behind him, running her fingertips lightly over his ass.

“Look at you,” she says, letting out a low whistle. “Isabel really did a number on you...your ass is the most gorgeous pink right now. It just makes me want to—“

And she digs her nails in, scratching down both his ass cheeks simultaneously. Doug shrieks.

“Color, sweetheart?”

“Green,” Doug says, voice raspy from screaming.

“Well,” Minkowski says, spreading his cheeks with her thumbs, teasing the edges of his hole. “What I meant to say was, you look good enough to eat.”

And she licks a stripe between his ass cheeks, pressing her tongue firmly against him from bottom to top. Doug screams.

“Treating him nicely, I take it?” Lovelace says, heels clicking as she re-enters.

“Mhm,” Minkowski says. She licks him again, this time sliding up the inside of one ass cheek, then the other. Doug moans, the sound strangled.

“Oh, do you like that, sweetheart?” Lovelace croons, running her fingertips gently up and down his back as Minkowski swirls her tongue around the entrance to his ass.

Doug can only whimper, half-sobbing, and thrust his hips back weakly. A hand reaches up and pulls his hair, hard, his head yanked back, neck bent.

“Answer the captain when she speaks to you,” Minkowski says, her mouth off him as she holds him by the hair.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Doug shouts through tears, and Minkowski lets go and shoves her tongue into him, prompting more half-sob, half-screams.

“Color?” Lovelace asks.

“Green still, so green,” Doug pants. He’s never felt so good in his life, mouths and hands and pain and pleasure and tears and ropes all blending together in a combination of sensory input that threatens to overwhelm but is so, so exquisite, and Doug wouldn’t trade a minute of this for the world, even if it kills him.

“Do you like this, sweetheart?” Lovelace says again, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Do you like it when Commander Minkowski eats your ass?”

“Yes, sir,” he groans, eyes rolling back as Minkowski flicks her tongue inside him.

“You’re being very good for us, Doug," Lovelace says. “Keep at him, Renée. I want him nice and open and ready for me.”

“Will do, Isabel,” Minkowski replies, pulling her mouth off Doug, who whimpers.

“Hush, now,” Minkowski says to him. “I’m not done with you.”

Doug hears the sound of a bottle of lube opening and whines as Minkowski slicks him up, the lube cold against his bare, sensitive skin.

Minkowski slides one finger into him, then two. She moves them slowly, crooking her fingers to brush his prostate before slowly sliding into and out of him. It feels so good, but it’s not enough, and Doug begs wordlessly for more, keening sounds mixed with pressing back his hips.

“You want more, Eiffel?” Minkowski says, a dark edge to her voice.

“Please, sir. Please.”

She pulls both fingers out at once, and Doug sobs.

“Say my name, Eiffel.”

Eiffel is so spanked and fucked out, his head spinning, thoughts scattered, that it takes an enormous amount of concentration to try to remember what he calls her.

“C-Commander?”

“Nope,” Minkowski runs a fingernail down his ass cheek, sharp and offering no satisfaction.

“M-minkowski?” He’s sure he’s pronounced it right this time, but she scratches slowly down the other side.

“No, sweetheart." She wraps both hands around his ass now, digging her nails in deeper with each word. "Say. My. Name.”

“Renée, please! Please, Renée!”

“Good boy,” Minkowski says, and she slams three fingers into him at once, stretching him so that it just skirts the threshold of pain, filling him but not hurting him, moving in and out of him at a relentless pace that just makes Doug cry harder, not even trying to move his hips, just taking whatever this cruel, gorgeous woman will give him.

“God, you’re hot when you’re bossy, Renée,” Lovelace says, and Doug feels her weight shift on the bed. “You make me wish you were the one I was fucking tonight.”

Doug hears the sound of a mouth on skin behind him, probably Lovelace sucking on Minkowski’s neck, and then Minkowski gasping gently.

“As much as I’d like to take you to bed right now, Isabel,” Minkowski says, “and trust me, I would, I think poor Doug here is going to explode soon.”

“Oh, he can wait another minute or two. Can’t you, sweetheart?”

Doug swallows. “I can, sir.”

“We can at least give him a view,” Lovelace says, and she pulls Minkowski onto the bed in front of Eiffel, sucking on the other woman’s neck as she slides her fingers under Minkowski’s panties and into her dripping cunt. Eiffel has a front-row seat to that gorgeous show, and he moans quietly, but truthfully it’s a relief, this break from being touched. Eiffel really did feel like he was going to explode, was going to come all over the place, cock ring or no, was going to sob himself dry and just keep shaking, all out of tears.

He watches Minkowski cant her hips into Lovelace’s fingers, pushing her in further with each thrust. Lovelace knows all Minkowski’s sweet spots by now, curls her fingers inside her and uses her tongue or her fingertips to tease at her clit until Minkowski comes with a shout, volume above average, almost like she’s absorbed some of Eiffel’s noise and is releasing it.

“Good girl,” Lovelace murmurs, pressing kisses to Minkowski’s neck. “Stay here and watch me fuck Eiffel, hm?”

Lovelace’s shoes clatter to the floor as she gets to her feet, harness and strap-on firmly in place. She comes to stand behind Eiffel, putting her hands on his hips and pressing her fingertips into the soft skin between his hipbones and pubes. Eiffel sighs gently.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lovelace doesn’t hesitate, just shoves the dildo, the one they’d picked out together at the store, into him, and Doug is back to full volume, moaning at how good it feels, the fullness of it, the drunk, heady feeling of Lovelace fucking him while a blissed-Minkowski watches from just in front of him.

Lovelace begins fucking him in earnest, starting out slow before gradually increasing her speed, encouraged by Doug’s loud moaning. Soon she’s fucking him hard into the mattress, his skin burning, tears pouring out of his eyes. At some point he loses sight of Minkowski, only to realize she must have moved behind Lovelace, must be touching her somehow in the same unrepentant rhythm with which she’s fucking Doug, and everything is moaning and panting and friction and sweat, and then Lovelace comes with a shout, hips stuttering against Eiffel as her whole body shudders with sensation. Eiffel wants to beg her to keep fucking him, or to touch his cock, or for Minkowski to eat him out again or anything really, _anything_ , but Lovelace recovers quickly.

“Renée, dear,” she says, out of breath but still sounding far more put together than Doug feels, “I’m going to finish fucking Eiffel now. Would you take off his cock ring and let the poor boy come?”

Lovelace starts moving her hips again, moving lazily into and out of Doug as Minkowski reaches in front of him to touch his cock. Doug whimpers.

“Almost there,” Minkowski says. “Just let me—”

And she rolls the ring off his cock just as Lovelace thrusts particularly deep, and Doug is coming, coming in thick spurts, coming longer than he thought he could, coming shouting incoherent syllables while someone strokes his hair.

When Doug comes back to himself, Minkowski is untying his wrists while Lovelace applies some kind of cool balm to his ass, her strap-on lying next to her on the floor.

“You did so well, Doug,” Minkowski says, her voice gentle, with none of the cruel imperiousness of her earlier commands. “You were so good for us.” She kisses his palms, massages his wrists gently.

“We’ll let that balm sink in for a minute, and then we’ll help you up,” Lovelace says. “Do you want some water?”

Doug nods, and Lovelace brings him a water bottle, which she helps him drink from his position bent over the bed. Minkowski strokes his hair gently. Doug’s eyelids flutter shut.

“How are you feeling, Doug?” Lovelace says, wiping still-wet tears from his face with tissues. “That was a pretty intense scene.”

Doug does an inventory of himself—body, mind, emotions. “Tired,” he says honestly. “And sore. But...good. So good. The best I’ve been in a while actually,” he says, half-laughing.

Lovelace nods and kisses his cheek. “How are his vitals, Hera?”

“Heart rate and breathing are still coming down, but otherwise, everything seems normal,” chimes the AI’s familiar voice. "He'll have some bruises in the morning, but nothing too serious."

“I think we’re good to move him now,” Lovelace says to Minkowski, and they help Eiffel into a sitting position on the chair, his ass propped up on one of their softest pillows. Minkowski strips the sheets while Lovelace cleans Eiffel with a warm washcloth, intermittently pressing kisses to his forehead or cheeks.

“You really were so good tonight, Doug,” Lovelace says. “You surprised me. I didn’t think you’d be able to take so much.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” Doug admits. “I thought I was going to die when Minkowski was rimming me. I was pretty relieved when you distracted her.”

Lovelace laughs. “Doug. I know. Why do you think I did it?”

“I assumed it was because I’m just so irresistibly sexy,” Minkowski says, having finished changing the sheets.

“Well, that too,” Lovelace says. “I was surprised at just how vicious you can be, Renée. It’s hot.”

“I like to think I can still surprise even you two,” Minkowski says, perching on the edge of the armchair and pressing a kiss to the top of Doug’s head.

“Can we order pizza for dinner?” Doug asks.

The other two laugh. “Hera?” Lovelace says.

“It’s already ordered,” Hera says. “Extra pepperoni, your favorite.”

“You rock, Hera,” Doug says.

“Only the best for my favorite thruple.”

Minkowski groans. “You know I hate that word.”

“What word? Thruple?”

“Let’s get Doug into the bathroom to wash his face,” Lovelace said. “And get some clothes on him. And then we can argue about thruples.”

“Fine,” Hera and Minkowski says simultaneously, and Minkowski stands, taking one of Doug’s hands while Lovelace takes the other.

“Thanks,” Doug says. “All three of you. For…all of it.”

Minkowski kisses him on the cheek. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re so welcome.”


End file.
